‘Yes, which Breightling had no idea about. So in the end, Breightling is teetering on the verge of bankruptcy, when his old pal Stoppard says, hey, I know a guy who might be able to help you with a loan.’
‘And the rest is history. Jeez, with friends like Stoppard...’
‘You don’t just get screwed for your money, you lose your wife and daughter too.’
‘I wonder which was the most important to Stoppard?’ Wayne mused. ‘Do you think he hoped Li would knock Breightling off?’
‘Maybe, but not necessarily. I think Stoppard just wanted to see Breightling suffer.’
‘That’s something I just don’t get. How long has Breightling known about him and his wife? I can’t understand why the hell he’s been putting up with it.’
‘Yeah well, relationships—who knows? But as far as Stoppard was concerned, Miranda and Breightling staying together would be worth much more financially to him. I doubt he was ready to let Breightling go until he’d sucked him totally dry.’
‘The guy’s a mongrel.’
‘And at the moment he’s exercising his right to remain silent. But we’ll get him. Clarissa’s pulling apart his laptop as we speak; it’s just a matter of time. She’s already accessed the Dream Team chat room, it’s full of creeps setting up deals, swapping and sharing their material.’ She worried her thumbnail for a moment. ‘There’s a link where you can order video footage of any kind of abuse you want to see, rape on demand, even snuff movies.’
Wayne shook his head.
‘There are members in the US, the UK and Germany—it’s going to be of interest to police on several continents. We might even be setting up a worldwide sting.’
‘How would you do that?’
‘By highjacking Stoppard’s online identity. But we have to act quickly, while we still have a media blackout—we don’t want word getting out that Lolita’s been arrested.’
‘I can see you’ll be having your hands full for a while.’
‘Yeah, plus identifying the kids in Stoppard’s films, and their parents or so-called carers.’
Traffic was lighter now. They whizzed down Guildford Road in silence for a while before Wayne spoke again.
‘Okay, so we’ve worked out the Zhang Li angle, but what about Kusak? They were both killed by the gun that belonged to Emma’s father.’
Stevie shrugged. ‘Maybe Emma and her father did it together? All along I’ve had the feeling she’s trying to protect someone.’
‘But do you really think he’d use his own daughter as bait to catch a paedophile?’
She shook her head. ‘No, for all his faults, Breightling loves his daughter. He would never put her in harm’s way like that.’
‘But so far that’s what the evidence is telling us.’ Wayne pulled the car to a stop outside the Breightlings’ house. ‘Here we are.’
Christopher Breightling opened the black lacquer door and squinted at them through the bright sunlight. He was in need of a shave and his pale T-shirt was stained with what appeared to be red wine.
‘What do you want? Can’t you just leave us alone for a while?’ he said.
Stevie was getting used to the effect she’d been having on people lately. She edged her foot into the crack in the door to prevent him from slamming it in their faces. ‘We need another word, sir.’
He rubbed his hands over his face. ‘When is this ghastly business going to end?’
‘I’m afraid it’s only just warming up,’ Wayne said as they pushed past him into the house. The curtains were still drawn, the kitchen strewn with evidence of a long night and the air sour with old wine. Music thundered down from Emma’s room on the mezzanine, a particularly loud heavy metal riff that made Christopher clamp his hands over his ears and groan.
Wayne flicked his head in the direction of the music and Stevie climbed the twisted staircase to Emma’s room. The girl was still in her pyjamas, lying on her bed propped up on her elbows and engrossed in sketching something. She wasn’t aware of Stevie’s presence until the stereo was switched off.
‘Oh, hi,’ Emma said, looking up from her drawing.
‘I didn’t know you were into heavy metal,’ Stevie said.
The girl shrugged. ‘Sometimes, in some moods.’
‘Then it sounds like you must be very angry.’
Emma returned to her sketching. ‘What are you doing here?’ she said, keeping her eyes on her work.
Stevie sank onto the edge of the bed. ‘I’m afraid we’ve come to arrest your father.’
At last she seemed to have the girl’s attention. The pale face flushed, the pencil snapped on the paper. ‘Why?’ she demanded.
‘We think he’s responsible for two fatal shootings.’ Somehow, a shooting sounded so much softer than murder.
Emma spun herself into a sitting position. Light from the window glinted on her glasses, making them look like windows with the shutters down.
Stevie looked at the drawings; images of gargoyles and pointy-tongued dragons. When Emma saw she was looking at them, she scraped them up, screwed them into a ball and threw them at her.
‘You’re wrong, you’re wrong!’ Emma shouted. Then she sprang to her feet, grabbed a photo from the desk and held it out to Stevie with both hands. It was the much younger Breightling with the African children. ‘Look at this, my father’s a doctor, he doesn’t kill people, he helps people!’ Then she burst into tears.
Stevie took the photo and put it back on the desk and attempted to comfort the girl. She clasped her thin shoulders and searched the small anguished face. ‘Emma, take some deep breaths. You are going to have to tell someone what you know about the death of Miro Kusak. It’s the only thing that might help your father now.’
Wayne peered around the door. ‘You ready?’ He was clearly bursting with something he wanted to tell her.
‘No, not yet,’ she said. She went out into the passageway with him.
‘He’s broken down,’ Wayne whispered. ‘Said he killed Zhang Li in self defence. He’s coming with me to Central to make a full confession. He’s just getting changed.’
Stevie cocked a surprised eyebrow. ‘That didn’t take long.’
‘Well, he’s no Aidan Stoppard, is he?’
‘What about Kusak?’
‘Said he’s never heard of him.’
‘Where’s the mother?’
‘Not here.’
Stevie felt her anger flare. ‘For God’s sake, that woman is too much. Is she just oblivious to everything that’s going on around her? I’m looking forward to a word with her ... wilful neglect, what do you reckon? Can we charge her with that?’
Wayne raised an eyebrow. ‘Save it Stevie, ranting at her isn’t going to do any good. Breightling took her to the hospital first thing this morning; apparently she OD’d on sedatives last night. She’s done it before, he says, when he brought up the D word with her. Seems she knows just the right amount of pills to take to avoid the nasty side effects.’
Maybe this was part of the reason Breightling stayed around, Stevie thought, the old leave-me-and-I’ll-kill-myself-trick.
She put her head back through the bedroom door and told Emma to get dressed as Wayne headed off to hurry up Breightling. Wayne was right, Stevie thought as she slumped against the wall of the mezzanine landing. Maybe it was just as well Miranda wasn’t here right now. Dishing it up to Miranda might make her feel better, but in the long term it would only make communication with the woman more difficult than it was already. And wilful neglect on top of the possession charges might make the authorities question Miranda’s suitability to keep her child. While the woman was no paradigm of motherhood, she was probably better than no mother at all.
She went back into Emma’s room. ‘Wash your face Emma, you’re coming with me to Central.’ It was time for some answers.